


A Dream of Summer

by sunsetking



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fix-It, Kinda, also kinda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetking/pseuds/sunsetking
Summary: “I don’t-”“I know, I know. It’s all very scary and confusing, isn’t it?”Jon nodded numbly.“We’ll get through this. Together. We always have.”





	A Dream of Summer

Jon rode into the bleak tundra beyond the Wall, the freefolk at his side. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and Jon Snow was perhaps the saddest man alive. A wave of memories washed over him, and he collapsed in his saddle.

_ Things could have been different. Things should have been different. _

Jon closed his eyes.

** **

And then the world  _ twisted,  _ and everything was black.

** **

When Jon awoke, he was on a soft bed in a warm room. He had yet to open his eyes, but the change in his surroundings was already plain as day. 

_ What in the seven hells? _

When Jon opened his eyes, he heard a gasp. He turned to see a young woman who stared at him in awe.

_ Judging by her clothes, she’s a handmaiden or something like that. Wait, why am I thinking about that when there's something much more important to worry about? What is going on?  _

Jon watched as the maid ran from the room, yelling to the heavens.

“His Grace has awoken! He has awoken!”

_ ‘His Grace?’ _

Jon looked down at his hands, and froze. They weren’t the hands he remembered, but instead were wrinkled and worn, the hands of a middle-aged man.

_ What? _

Jon felt his face, and realized he had somehow grown a beard. He shakily sat up, his mind buzzing.

_ Have I been taken prisoner? No, she called me a King. What is- _

The door opened, and Jon looked in shock at the man who walked through it.

His hair was white instead of the blonde that Jon remembered, and time had taken its toll on him, but Jaime Lannister was unforgettable. Jon noted that the man was once again dressed in the white armour of a Kingsguard.

_ Am I dead? _

“Hello, Jon.” Jaime’s voice was firm, yet kind and sympathetic. “I know you have many questions, and I promise you’ll get the answers soon. But before you do, I need you to tell me what you remember.”

Jon frowned.

_ About you? _

“I remember you betrayed us and fled back to Cersei. You died a traitor.”

Jaime sat down on the foot of the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, and gave Jon a tight smile.

“Jon, I know this hard for you. But I need you to start from the beginning.”

_ The beginning? Why?  _ Jon realized something was very wrong.

Jaime looked at Jon, waiting patiently.

_ To hell with it. Why not? _

And so Jon told Jaime everything.

** **

Jaime nodded at the end of Jon’s story. 

“Thank you for sharing. I know this is hard for you.”

Jon nodded, his heart aching at what he had done, at what Daenerys had done.

_ We failed each other and the world. _

“Jon, I am going to bring someone else to meet you. Like me, you think that they have passed. Do you want to meet them?”

An impossible hope rose in Jon’s chest, only to be crushed by despondency.

_ Could it be? Maybe it’s.... No. I don’t deserve to see her. Still, I might as well meet them. It could be Robb, or Maester Aemon. _

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Jaime left Jon alone in the room with his thoughts.

_ Where am I? _

Jon got up, and tried to stand. The blood rushed from his head, and Jon was suddenly dizzy. He quickly sat back down. 

_ I’m sore, too. I feel like I haven’t moved in forever. What’s going on? Why is Jaime alive? Where am I? _

A knock on the door caught Jon’s attention, and drew him away from his thoughts.

“Come in!”

She did, and Jon burst into tears. 

** **

Daenerys Targaryen was not the young woman he had butchered. Age had lined her face, lending an air of wisdom to the queen’s aura. Flecks of white blended with her silver hair, but her amethyst eyes were as sharp as they ever had been. Jon stared at Daenerys through his tears, committing every bit of her to his memory. 

“Daenerys-”

Jon stood, and stumbled forwards. Daenerys caught Jon in her arms before he fell. Jon’s arms encircled Daenerys’s form, and for a long time, the air was filled with the sound of Jon weeping. He would try to speak, but the emotions choked his words, and reduced him to blubbers. Daenerys said nothing at first, but the tears ran down her face and over her smile. When she finally spoke, it was with a light and joyous tone.

“I-I know there’s a lot to talk about, and I know you have many questions. But, but- oh,  _ Jon! _ I’ve missed you!”

Jon shook his head.

“Why? Why miss me? I murdered you. I-”

“Hush. I’ll explain everything.”

Daenerys led Jon to the bed, hand in hand. The pair sat down on the bed’s velvet sheets, and Jaime left the room to give the couple privacy. Daenerys turned to Jon, a beaming smile on her lips. 

“We should talk.”

Jon flinched.

“Do we have to? Daenerys, it’s a horrible thing, what I did. What you did.”

Daenerys’s face grew weary, but the smile stayed.

“Trust me, Jon. We’ve been through this before, many times now.” She chuckled at Jon’s confused face, and then grew serious. “Forgive me. It’s just a little funny to me, the way this goes.”

_ The way what goes? _

Daenerys held Jon’s hands, and brought them to her lips. When she lowered them, she spoke quietly, caringly, and lovingly.

“I know this is hard to understand. Jaime told me what your mind is telling you this time, and I want you to understand that-” Daenerys exhaled. “Sorry. This is always a difficult conversation to have.”

Jon didn’t know what to make of what Daenerys was saying.

“I don’t-”

“I know, I know. It’s all very scary and confusing, isn’t it?”

Jon nodded numbly.

“We’ll get through this. Together. We always have.”

** **

“You faced the Night King down in single combat, Jon. It was awe-inspiring to witness.”

“Arya was the one who-”

“I know that’s what you think, Jon. But please listen to me. I’ll explain.”

Jon quieted, and Daenerys continued.

“You won, Jon. You beat him. But it wasn’t a cheap victory.” Daenerys’s voice shook. “I remember little of what happened, but they told me that Drogon and I swooped down from the heavens and carried what was left of you to Winterfell’s courtyard. I do remember how you looked, in bed, surrounded by maesters and The Red Woman and Brandon.”

Jon reached for Daenerys with shaking hands, and wiped away her tears.

“It took six turns of the moon to heal your body back from the brink. You were frostbitten and badly wounded. I didn’t think you would survive.”

_ I wish I hadn’t. If I had died in Winterfell, you wouldn’t have been killed. _

“I’m not dead, Jon. We’re blessed with life, the both of us.”

Jon blushed as he realized he had thought aloud. 

“But then.... Daenerys. I saw you die. I drove the blade into your flesh! I know it to be true! It plays itself again and again and again in my mind, haunting my waking nightmares!”

Daenerys sighed, the sound of someone who had been through this before.

“Where, Jon? Where did you stab me?”

Jon pointed at her midriff, and Daenerys got up. 

Jon paled as he realized she was going to show him the wound. He covered his face with his hands. Daenerys continued undressing, the rustling of silk filling the air.

“Please don’t. I can’t see this, I can’t-”

“Look, Jon. I swear on my mother’s grave I’m not trying to hurt you. Just look.”

Jon looked, and gasped.

There was no wound, just unbroken, unblemished skin. With shaking hands, Jon felt Daenerys, and convinced that what he saw was real, sat back, mind adrift. Daenerys quickly dressed, and sat down on the bed. Her voice was soft and gentle when she continued.

“I said your body had healed. Your mind did not.”

“My mind?”

Daenerys hesitated, and then carefully spoke.

“The Night King was a greenseer, Jon. As Brandon explained to me, that meant he had the power to enter the minds of others and try and overpower them. During your duel, he ripped your mind apart.”

Jon didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Brandon tried, he really tried. Melisandre did too. Together, they pieced together the fevered pieces of your mind, and were able to restore you back to your body.”

Daenerys took Jon’s hands in her own, and he looked at her in confusion.

“But the mind, it seems is like a vase. Once broken, it can be glued back together, but it isn’t the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry if my explanation is confusing.” Daenerys gave Jon a small, pained smile. “It’s a secondhand one. But from what Brandon said, the Night King permanently wounded your mind.”

“What?”

Tears beaded at the corners of Daenerys’s eyes, but she kept speaking.

“Most of the time, you are the man I remember, my beloved husband and King. But every year, on the anniversary of the Night King’s death, you fall into a coma. For a week, you sleep. And when you awake, your memories are addled.”

“What are you saying?”

Daenerys gently clasped Jon’s head in her hands, and carefully turned his head so that he saw nothing but her.

“Jon, I know this is hard. But your memories are  _ wrong. _ A great deal of your memories are fevered dreams, and nothing more.”   
_ That’s madness. _

Daenerys rubbed her thumbs over Jon’s grizzled cheeks.

“You’re about to say that my claim makes no sense, that this can’t be real-”

“And it can’t be! I remember my past, every horrible second! I remember the way the blood seeped from your chest, your mouth, your nose!” A terrifying thought suddenly arose in Jon’s mind. “How do I know that this is real? Perhaps I’ve gone mad-” Jon began breathing heavily.

Daenerys pulled Jon into an embrace, and gently rocked him back and forth. When she pulled away, Daenerys looked deep into Jon’s eyes.

“Jon, Ser Jaime has told me what you remember. And I’ll be able to show you that the world you remember is nothing more than a nightmare; I always have. But before I can, I need you to know that, that-” her voice caught, and Daenerys had to take a moment to swallow her emotions. When she resumed, her voice was firm and proud. “I need you to know that I love you, and that I will never hurt you. Do you believe that?”

_ You never did, Daenerys. I hurt you. _ Jon nodded.

“Okay. Let’s begin.”

** **

“Seriously, Jon:  _ think _ . Why would the Lord of Light have revived you if Arya was the one meant to slay the Night King?”

“Well...”

_ When you put it that way, it does seem a little odd. I never really thought about it; I was just happy he was defeated. _

Daenerys had begun the process of picking apart Jon’s memories, pointing out the logical inconsistencies in the world he remembered.

“And your recollection of Sansa’s behavior makes no sense. She’s an astute politician. She would never treat me with open disdain, even if she wanted me dead.” Daenerys took a look at Jon’s face, and quickly added, “She doesn’t, Jon. We love each other as sisters: Sansa, Arya, and I.”

Jon smiled at that.

“And honestly, Jon, I don’t even need to get into the people you remember. The world you speak about is just... wrong. Think about it. Remember King’s Landing?”

“I do. I told you before, it was a barren place, a hot, dry desert near the coast.”

“In the middle of winter? Seriously?”

“Huh.”

_ That’s true. Why was it a dry place like an Essosi desert? Where was the snow? _

“Jon, you were tutored by the same man who taught the heir of Winterfell. Do you remember King Landing’s geography? It’s a hilly place, not a flat desert.”

Jon frowned.

“Aye. I never really thought about it at the time, but King’s Landing was very, very different from the city I had read about.”

Daenerys smiled, happy at the minor progress. Her face then grew serious.

“Getting back to the people, everyone seems to lose their compasses, do they not?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s start with Jaime, Jon. Jaime’s sister sent an assassin to kill him, and he somehow decides to ride back to her? That makes no sense. And Ser Tarth just let him ride into Cersei’s arms? Why would she do that?”

“I... don’t know. That does make little sense.”

“And Lord Varys! He’s the Spider, known across Westeros and beyond for his skill in subterfuge and spycraft. Why in the Seven Hells would he openly proclaim the treason your mind tells you he committed? To the lover of the woman you say he was conspiring against?”

“Uh...”

“As for Brandon, I really shouldn’t have to say this, but for the love of the Seven! He’s entirely dedicated to his duties as a greenseer, to the point he turned down the Lordship of Winterfell. Why would he of all people become King? Why would  _ Tyrion, _ who your mind tells you was a  _ prisoner accused of conspiring to commit regicide _ , be named his Hand? Even in the framework of your fevered dream, that makes no sense!”

Daenerys then studied Jon’s dazed face. Her expression softened.

“Are you alright, love?”

“I’m just... confused.”

Daenerys chuckled, and reclined back on the bed. 

“You always are, at first. But within a week, these memories will fade away, and the real ones will return.”

“Real ones?”

“Jon. Look at yourself. Look at me. We aren’t the young people you remember. It’s been decades since the Night King fell and we ascended to the throne-”

“We?”

“Yes, Jon,  _ we. _ ” Daenerys shook her head. “I know that in your dream, I begged you to hide your heritage. I  _ didn’t. _ I was so very happy that I wasn’t alone. I asked you for your hand when you told me the truth. We were wed that night, and announced the truth to everyone. You’ll remember.”

_We’re married?_ Jon smiled, but then he realized what that meant.

“Daenerys, we’re related. I can’t-”

Daenerys patted his arm sympathetically.

“I know, I know. Sometimes, you’re like this, after you emerge from your long sleep. I promise I won’t pressure you. When your real memories return, you’ll see that you weren’t very concerned about participating in our family’s traditions.”

_ Our family. _

“Did... Do I accept my Targaryen heritage?”

Daenerys nodded. “You do. Of course, you’re my white wolf, a Northerner at heart. But you are quite proud of your Valyrian ancestry. Longclaw is proof enough of that.”

_ Longclaw? _

Daenerys pointed at the far wall, where the blade was reverently hung. Jon tried to get up, but had to lean on Daenerys for support. Together, husband and wife walked to the sword. Jon studied the pommel. From a distance, the white object had seemed as he had remembered, but Jon saw that the head was that of a dragon’s, white with red rubies for eyes.

_ An ice dragon. Like me. _

Jon’s voice was soft when he looked from the sword to Daenerys.

“This is a lot to take in, Daenerys. But, I’m, uh-” Jon quickly wiped his eyes. “I’m very glad you’re alive and sane. It destroyed me, doing what I did. But I had no choice; you had killed thousands-”

Daenerys sighed, and gave Jon’s shoulder a squeeze as the couple walked back to the bed.

“Jon, I know that the visions in your head are strong and vivid. But I need you to think. No matter my mental state, within your dream, I had won. There was no reason for me to raze the city we stand in, the Keep that is our home. Why would I do that?”

Jon blinked away tears. 

“You had gone mad-”

“Within a week? Jon, my brother Viserys suffered from madness. It developed over the course of years, until he went from being a dutiful, caring person to a savage, abusive one. And you say I turned into a genocidal tyrant in a single day? No one changes that much in a short time.”

Daenerys helped Jon into bed, and sat at his side.

“In truth, this isn’t the first time I’ve gone mad in your dreams. Every several years, such a vision troubles you.”

Jon let the ramifications of that statement roll in his head.

_ Well, if I’m to accept this, there are some things I must know. _

“How long has this been going on?”

Daenerys’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes betrayed the pain she felt.

“I was twenty years old when the war ended. I’m fifty-five now. For thirty four years, you’ve fallen into your long sleep on the anniversary of the battle of Winterfell.”

_ Thirty four times. _

Jon held Daenerys’s hands, providing what comfort he could.

“I’m sorry, Daenerys. It must be hard-”

“It was very hard at the beginning. The first time, I didn’t know what to do.”

_ I can only imagine. I must have seemed mad. _

“But you came back. After a horrible month, you came back.” Daenerys smiled. “We worked on rebuilding the Seven Kingdoms. But the sleep came again. This time, Brandon realized what was going on.”

“Did that help?”

Daenerys nodded.

“It wasn’t so bad when I knew what was happening. And like a clock, the same thing happened every year. You fall asleep. You wake up from a fevered version of our world. And then you return to normal.”

Jon nodded, eyes downcast.

“Is it like this every year?”

Daenerys shook her head.

“Sometimes, it’s better, and you have memories of an idyllic life with me, a pleasant dream that melts away easily. You return to me in full quickly, invigorated by the experience. Sometimes, it’s worse. There’s been nightmares where I’ve abused you, where you’ve done terrible things to me- all much worse than the dream you’ve had this time around.”

“And how long does it take for me to regain my true memories?”

Daenerys smiled.

“It gets quicker every year. Last year, it took nine days for you to fully heal.”

Jon relaxed.

_ I can believe this. It’s true, my memories make no sense. Hell, even Rhaegal’s death makes no sense- Rhaegal! _

“Does that mean Rhaegal lives?”

Daenerys nodded vigorously, and then laughed.

“That green good-for-nothing goes into hibernation every year, the same week you do. Sam tells me that it’s because of the bond you two share, but I’m his mother. I know Rhaegal’s being lazy.”

Jon smiled, and then realized something.

_ I can feel our connection, like I can with Ghost. That wasn’t there in my past. I suppose that makes sense, for if my past is false, there’s no reason my incorrect memories would have my connection with my dragon in them. _

“This is good. Rhaegal and Ghost are the first things you remember, and when you do, it means more memories are going to return soon.”

Jon looked at Daenerys, a sudden worry on his mind.

“Are they good memories?”

Daenerys closed her eyes.

“I won’t lie to you. There is sorrow that you will have to undergo again. There are bitter days, like Davos’s funeral, that you will remember. But there is a lot of happiness that awaits, much more happiness than sorrow. You’ll remember Sansa’s wedding, and our own. You’ll remember Rhaegar’s birth, and Eddard’s, and Viserra’s-”

_ Rhaegar? Eddard? Viserra? _

“Who are these people?”

Daenerys laughed. “Oh, you never forget them for too long. You’ll meet them soon enough, and they’re very excited to see you.”

“But who are they?”

Daenerys smiled, and kissed Jon’s brow.

“Rhaegar. Eddard. Viserra. Lyanna. Rhaella. These are the names of our children, Jon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic, and I look forward to reading your comments. I just want to get something off my chest.
> 
> I'm beyond pissed at the way S8 went down, and it hasn't gotten much better since the show ended. I'm really upset with the way Jon and Dany had their stories end, and knowing that this is GRRM's endgame disgusts me. (To the point I've started writing my own damn original story, but I digress.) While I trust him to execute it well, it's still a really crappy ending. But D&D failed miserably in their execution, to a laughably bad extent. (I poked at it my fic, but seriously: Olympic swimmer Euron? Laser beam Drogon? King's Landing? The contrived fights, the way Jaime was butchered- it's all straight trash.) 
> 
> And for the record, the way women get treated in S8 is horrible. Daenerys is reduced to the ultimate scorned woman trope. Sansa says rape made her strong. (WTF!) Yara/Asha doesn't do much, because reasons. And to top it all off, the only women (Cersei and Dany, because two seconds of crowned Sansa isn't enough) we see rule are both insane, too emotional to hold power. Nice implications you got there, GRRM. 
> 
> I had kinda hoped that writing fanfic (which I started doing in the aftermath of S8) would get me to believe in our beloved characters again, but that hasn't been working. I dunno. In a way, it's quite an achievement: giving a story an ending so bad that it even kills the urge to interact with it at all. The only things keeping me writing ASOIAF fanfic instead of original content is the urge to give the characters a better ending then the ones they got, and as a way to practice writing. I don't know. I owe it to y'all to finish the fics I've started, but I don't know if I'm really going to look at ASOIAF with much fondness going forwards.
> 
> In any case, I'm just somebody with a bone to pick and an AO3 account to rant with. Unless y'all really want me to continue, this will be a oneshot. 
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading, and I look forward to your comments. They're another reason to write ASOIAF fanfic: interacting with other fans is always fun.


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